The Sapphire Monkey Job
by Jada Ryl
Summary: When a job goes wrong, Eliot finds himself forced into an impossible task. Not to mention he's apparently picked up a sidekick. Written for the 2012 Leverage ReverseBang at livejournal.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Leverage. This is for entertainment purposes only so, please, don't sue me.

**Author's Note:** Please, review. Getting favorite notices in my email is cool but I really enjoy hearing what it is people like about the fic and ways I can write better. How else am I to improve as a writer?

L* * *L

Eliot ducked behind the tavern, glancing behind him. He'd hesitated to take this job in the first place and he really didn't want to tell his client some other _bodalach_ had gotten to the damn spell book first. Everyone knew that the king's sorcerer had almost unbeatable wards in place. But he'd needed the money and it had been over a month since anyone had approached him for a job. To make it worse, this client was known to have a bad temper.

He could hear the soldiers break down the front door and crouched, ready to run. He listened carefully for the sound of approaching footsteps. The soldiers in the bar seemed to be all but inciting a riot. He sighed. He probably shouldn't be surprised. This was Eire, after all. That seemed to be part of a guard's job description.

Just as he decided the guards must have gone into the bar for someone else, he felt a sharp pressure to his wrists and the base of his neck. He fell roughly to his knees, all strength gone from his body. He couldn't even make his suddenly paralyzed hands catch him. He held back a gasp as he felt his wrist twist in some direction it wasn't meant to go.

"Eliot," a voice above him said. "It has been a long time, _malchik_."

Eliot looked up at the man. "Damien," he murmured. The last time he'd seen the man was just before he'd started working for the king. _Mac an donais_, he'd probably made that possible himself. "See you've moved up in the world."

"And you, apparently, decided to descend even further. Tell me, _malyenki_ g_ovno_, have you lost your mind or do you wish to die?"

"Neither," Eliot spat. "Needed the money. Only job I could find was some _loh mudak_ who wanted in the king's _buidseach_'s vault. A man's gotta eat."

The man leaned down and pulled Eliot up by the back of his tunic. "Eliot, you know what I do to people who steal from me. Where is my spell book?"

"I don't have it, Damien." Eliot tried to twist away but whatever spell had brought him down had yet to wear off. "I never even saw it."

Damien's lips twisted in an amused smile. "You break into my house and the only thing missing is a rare spell book, bit you never saw it? You'll have to try harder than that, _vor_."

"I swear, Damien, I never even got to the vault. The wards triggered as soon as I crossed the threshold. And then another _zalupa vor_ went in while I tried to find a way out of the wards."

"_Chush sobachya!_ I am not stupid, my little thief. I know full well how you spin your improbable tales. Two men at the same time who are mad enough to attempt to steal from me? And my wards only tell me of one? Do not insult me! I know everyone who crosses my threshold."

"Damien," Eliot gasped as the older man grabbed his injured wrist.

Three soldiers stepped out of the pub's back door and took him from Damien. "I should hand you over to the king once I'm done with you," the sorcerer said. "You're useful but you are getting overly arrogant."

"_Poshol ti nahu_, _wedma_," Eliot spat as the guards fastened iron manacles around his wrists. "_Damnú ort! Kushi govno i umri. Is go hifreann leat, cac ar oineach."_

"_Na kaleni, suka!_" Damien roared, pulling something out of a pocket.

Eliot tried to stay upright as the guards forced him to his knees. He pulled back as the sorcerer fastened a _seun_ around his neck. He knew a little about Damien's amulets. They tended to be decidedly unpleasant. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach it to do anything about that. He blinked as he saw two figures between him and Damien. Eliot frowned. He recognized them. He gasped. They were Aimee and Liam. He barely felt the soldiers pull him to his feet as he watched them kiss. He cringed inside. He knew Liam was good to her. He knew she'd learned to love the other man. He even found some comfort in that. At least they weren't both completely miserable. But he'd been her fiancé, not Liam, and the sight of her with the man she'd married felt like he'd been gutted like a fish.

L* * *L

Alice sank into the chair with a pout. "You're so fortunate, Olivia," she said, blowing a stray hair out of her face.

Olivia looked up from her book. "What's wrong now?"

"Father wants me to meet another prince tomorrow," the older princess muttered. "Even if he's nice enough, it's not like I'll marry him. He always does this whenever he wants to form a new ally. And then he changes the treaty at the last minute to avoid the marriage."

"_Athair_ will have to find you a husband at some point," Olivia pointed out. "He needs an heir."

Alice laughed bitterly. "At this point, I don't think I'd want anyone he picks out for me. And I don't want to marry just so he can have an heir. I want to marry for me because I love my husband. You have it so easy. No one cares who you marry. And I want Father to stop using me to play games with people. _B' i sin reul 's an oidhche dhoilleir._"

Olivia sighed. "What if you fall in love whoever Father picks out? Remember Aimee and Liam? She's happy with him."

"That's just my point, 'Livia. She was engaged to someone else. Yes, she's happy now, but she was crying her heart out before the wedding. I don't know what happened to her fiancé but, from what Aimee told me, he must have been devastated, too. All because Father was playing games. What if the man he finally makes me marry is in love with someone else? Will he even marry me or just the princess? Knowing Father, it'll be someone like Damien."

Olivia did not answer right away. A slight crease formed between her eyebrows like when she focused on a challenging chess game. "This prince is coming tomorrow?" she asked.

Alice nodded glumly. "Yes, _a bhidse_."

Olivia smiled. "Well, we should go down to the village, then. _Athair_ should have given us more time to fit you out. You want to look your best for your prince, don't you?"

Alice glared at her sister. "No, I don't. Didn't you listen to what I just said? I don't want anything to do with this new prince."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I know, Alice. But what would _Athair_ want to hear? He won't think anything of us going to town to get you a new gown for tomorrow. Besides, what better excuse could we ask for to go shopping?"

Alice grinned. "You have an idea, don't you?"

Olivia just grinned.

Alice threw her arms around her sister. "What would I do without you?" she asked.

"You'd find some way to burn down the palace, no doubt," the younger princess replied. "Now let's figure out what we need to get you."

Alice frowned. "What for?"

"Well, you don't want to deal with this prince. You want to find a man who doesn't care about you being the princess." Olivia tugged gently at Parker's hair. "So we'll have to buy you clothes that you wouldn't normally wear. And we've got to do something about your hair. You'll need some kind of money to take with you or something you can sell easily."

Alice blinked. "_Socair_, 'Liv! What exactly are you planning?"

Olivia grinned. "You can't exactly avoid this prince here, can you? Or get to know anyone without _Athair_ meddling? So we get you as far from the palace as possible. Don't tell me you haven't wanted to do this for several years now."

"How did you know?"

"_An nì chì na big,_ Alice. Now, for your hair, I think we could just use a wash. It would wear off in a few days. Just don't get your hair wet until you're a couple days away from here."

L* * *L

Eliot groaned. Everything hurt. He frowned, trying to figure out how long he'd been in Damien's dungeon. He hadn't seen the sun since his capture. There seemed to be no pattern to anything down here, nothing he could use to measure how long he'd been here. Just pain, seemingly endless, continuously changing pain.

He licked his dry lips and shifted against the wall. If only he could reach his face. The blood trickling down his forehead tickled infuriatingly. He pulled against the manacles on his wrists. He winced as the metal cut into the burns on his hands. He knew they weren't real burns but still. _Taigh na galla do _Damien, he had used some spell that not only felt like flames but left a lingering pain as if he'd actually been burned. It was cause for some hope. Surely the sorcerer wouldn't have bothered to protect his hands if he was really intended to hand him over to the king.

Eliot sighed quietly, a tear rolling down his cheek. Damien had left the damn _seun druime-laighe_ on the whole time. It had not stopped with just showing him Aimee and Liam together and happy. He wanted to rip his eyes out of his face. He'd tried closing his eyes, but the moans and the laughter were almost worse. Even if it would ever be safe for him to visit Aimee again, he didn't think he could face her after seeing this.

The grating of the cell door drew his attention. Eliot steeled himself, determined not to show any weakness as whoever it was approached. He could take some more pain yet. He smirked as Damien walked toward him. "Back for more, _zalupa_?" he spat. "Thought you'd be tired of me by now."

"_Past zakroi, vor_," the wizard ordered, spitting out some unintelligible phrase.

Eliot found himself writhing against the wall as phantom knives slowly pierced his skin. He wondered how much of this pain was real and how much just part of the magic. He had to bite back almost hysterical laughter at that thought. "Knives?" he taunted instead. "Couldn't have come up with something more original?"

"I told you when I brought you here that you were useful," Damien said, ignoring the taunt. "I meant it. You may be arrogant, but you are useful. I would rather not have to hand you over to His Majesty, at least, not yet."

"What do you want?" Eliot growled.

"I want the Sapphire Monkey. Or rather the king wants the Sapphire Monkey."

This time Eliot did laugh. "The king must be insane. Or you are for suggesting it to him. Everyone wants the Sapphire Monkey and no one even knows if it does anything more than sit around and look pretty. Most people aren't even convinced it's real! You really want to give the king a pretty hunk of rock, go get it yourself. The Sapphire Monkey and its powers are nothing more than a legend."

The wizard leaned over Eliot, smiling. "You're not one of those, though, are you? You've seen the Monkey."

"_Poshyol ty_," Eliot spat. "It's a stupid-looking piece of fancy rock. And it's guarded better than your personal vault which I know is better warded than the king's vault."

Damien sneered. "And you would know this how?"

Eliot rolled his eyes. "You don't survive in my line of work if you don't learn a few things. One of which is wards. I know lethal wards when I see them."

"Be that as it may," the sorcerer said breezily. "You will bring me that Monkey or I will hand you over to the king today."

"So I die tomorrow or in a few weeks?" Eliot growled. "Let me guess, you knew this whole time that I never saw your precious spell book. This whole torture session's been about that stupid legend."

"Would you take the job any other way?" Damien countered calmly.

"Of course not," Eliot growled. "I'm not suicidal."

"Will you take it now?"

"Well, the alternative is not exactly appealing."

The wizard shrugged. "Then it was worth my time. You know I always get what I want, Eliot."

Eliot couldn't hide the glare he gave the older man. Not for the first time, he wished he'd never taken that job he'd offered back when he was just starting out. He gathered the blood in his mouth and spat it at the sorcerer.

Damien just laughed. With a twist of his hand, a chain wrapped around Eliot's neck and tightened. "You are still the same _yebanko manolete_ you were nearly ten years ago," he said as Eliot's hands twisted, trying to reach the chain. "Perhaps, if you'd grow up a little, you'd be able to find work that doesn't break the king's laws and get you killed."

Eliot could hear the blood rushing in his ears as the chain twisted even tighter around his neck. The edges of his vision began to turn grey. "_Damnú ort_," he whispered as the black rushed in to claim him.

L* * *L

**Irish Gaelic**

_A bhidse_ sod it

_An nì chì na big_ what the little ones see

_Athair_ father

_B' i sin reul 's an oidhche dhoilleir_ that were a star on a dark night

_Bodalach_ dickhead

_Buidseach_ wizard, magician

_Damnú ort_ damn you

_Is go hifreann leat, cac ar oineach_ go to hell, scumbag (literally to hell with you, scumbag)

_Mac an donais_ damn it

_Seun_ charm/amulet

_Seun druime-laighe_ nightmare charm/amulet

_Socair_ easy

_Taigh na galla do_ (insert name) damn (insert name)

**Russian**

_Chush sobachya_ bullshit

_Kushi govno i umri_ eat shit and die

_Loh mudak_ - very stupid bastard

_Malchik_ boy

_Malyenki govno_ little shit

_Na kaleni, suka_ on your knees bitch

_Past zakroi, vor_ shut it, thief

_Poshyol ti nahu, wedma_ go fuck yourself witch

_Zalupa vor_ dickhead thief


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot groaned as he opened his eyes. He threw an arm over his face as the daylight blinded him and frowned. It had been so long since he'd seen the sun. his mouth was so dry, his tongue felt like wool. His head spun as he sat up. He squinted at the sky, sighing at the warmth of the sun's rays. The sun had started to move down toward the horizon. He felt along his belt. His sword and knives were back in their places. He checked his purse and grimaced. Of course the rich bastard had taken everything. This was the one hazard of his work that he truly hated. Stealing random _cac_ from one rich man for another did not bother him. They could afford it and sometimes it actually helped someone. Stealing from poor, hardworking commoners just because his heartless, _mún air meisce balgair_ of a client robbed him blind was a different story. On the other hand, at least Damien had left him his tools of the trade. Nate had given him this sword. He didn't want to have to replace it.

He pulled himself to his feet and looked around. Eliot gave a quiet, bitter laugh. The _buidseach_ had dumped him exactly where he'd found him. He looked down at his hands. It was a good thing they didn't hurt anymore. He wondered what his face looked like. Damien may have ended the spells, but Eliot seriously doubted the megalomaniac sadist would heal the physical wounds he'd dealt out.

Eliot walked toward the street in front of the pub. He almost wished it was a few hours later. It'd be easier to find some drunk stumbling into or out of the pub. _A bhidse_, it would be easier to find a game to bet on. He tripped and winced as he stumbled against the wall. Apparently that much of the spell had been real, even if the knives were not. He pushed away from the wall and kept walking. He'd worked with worse. Nothing Damien had done was intended to be fatal.

He sighed as he walked into the tavern and sat at a table in the corner. The familiar ambiance alone made him feel more at ease, more in control. A few men sat at tables around the room already. His lips twitched slightly. That left him less exposed should any of the king's soldiers come in.

A presence at his side had him gripping his knife. He looked up and took a breath. She was just a serving maid. She handed him a pint of beer with a smile.

Eliot shook his head and tried to hand the cup back. "I can't…" he began.

"On the house," she interrupted quietly, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "You look like you could use it."

Eliot met her blue eyes. "_Rath Dé ort, múirnín_," he whispered, his lips twitching again.

Girlish chatter drew his attention. He looked over toward the door to see two girls walk into the tavern. No, he corrected himself, one girl. The other looked like a young woman, for all that she carried herself as just a girl. He frowned slightly. Where were their parents? Surely any father would know better than to let his young daughters come to a place like this. Unless they worked here, but that did not look to be the case. They looked too unfamiliar for that.

The barmaid smiled at Eliot. "Well, it looks like I have my work cut out for me," she said, following Eliot's gaze. "Most of the men here know to respect a woman, especially the ones that come round this early. There's always a couple of _ù__maidhean air dàir_ to cause trouble, though."

The serving maid walked back to the bar. The older of the two newcomers, the brunette, fidgeted with a wooden disk as the blond pulled her toward the bar. She talked to the serving maid for a few moments before both newcomers retreated to Eliot's corner with a cup of wine.

"I hear you're the man to go to if someone needs a… discreet bodyguard, Eliot," the younger girl said quietly.

Eliot stared at her for a moment. How did she know who he was? He knew he'd never seen her before. He'd come on a job and had taken extra care to blend in, to not be recognized. He remembered Damien's threat. This had to be a set up. "I think you have the wrong person," he said finally.

The girl glared at him. "Really?" she asked, her voice taking on a belligerent tone. "It took you that long to decide you're not Eliot Spencer? That's odd. Odd enough to make me question your denial. You're either the man himself or you really wish you were."

Eliot couldn't resist a smile. "Or I don't know who I am," he retorted.

The girl just gave a look that screamed "I know who you are and I can see _cac_ five furlongs away."

He sighed. "All right, you got me," he said. "Thing is, I already have a job and I generally don't work for two clients at once. Tends to get messy."

The older girl sighed, flipping the wooden disk. Looking closer, Eliot could see a leather cord dangling from one end. "I need to leave town," she said quietly. "Today. I don't care where you're going as long as it's well away from here. I can pay. Just let me come with you and drop me off in some town along your way."

Eliot tried to catch her gaze but she seemed too focused on her charm. She was obviously hiding something. Something that troubled her. He looked over at the younger girl. That one had a protective streak a mile wide. He'd have to be blind not to see it. She was also a schemer. He looked back at the brown-haired girl. She looked ready to jump and run at any minute. "What are you running from, _m'eudail_?" he asked quietly.

She bit her lip and glanced at the other girl, then seemed to make a decision. She looked up and met his eyes. "Too much to discuss here," she said. "But if I don't leave today, everything will become more complicated."

He smiled at her. "Then we'd better get ready to leave, _múirnín_," he said quietly.

That brought a smile from her. "I am ready."

He couldn't resist a chuckle. She reminded him of Sam, so child-like and eager. "And what do you expect to eat on the road?"

She flushed slightly as she smiled. "Oh. I thought you'd just hunt on our way to wherever."

"_Coin bhadhail is clann dhaoin eile,_" Eliot muttered with a chuckle.

L* * *L

Eliot looked over at the girl that walked beside him. "So it would make things a lot less awkward if I knew your name," he commented. "Since we'll be traveling together until I can get you someplace safe."

She looked over at him. "I'm…" She paused. "Call me Parker."

He raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. "You're renaming yourself?" he asked. "You know, that's a little risky. If someone calls your new name and you forget, it's bound to raise questions."

She shook her head. "It's not a new name, exactly. When I was little, one of my father's friends used to take me to the park a lot. I liked it so much, he said I should live there when I grew up, become a park-keeper. Called me Parker, said it fit me."

Eliot stared at her for a moment before smiling. "I used to love the park by Abhainn Àirde as a child," he said quietly.

"The one by Dùn an Tuile has the prettiest trees," Parker replied. "The bark's almost pure white."

"White birch trees," Eliot explained. "They're rare here but they have whole forests of them in Ruschik."

Parker looked up at him. "You've been to Ruschik?"

Eliot smiled. "_M'eudail_, it's more a question of where I haven't been."

"Tell me about it," she asked, reminding him of Sam.

"It's cold, dark. You can travel for over a week without seeing a village. But I've never seen the stars shine brighter than they do there in mid-winter. The land is covered in forest with each village carved out of it. The snow piles up over the door frames in some places."

She frowned. "How does anyone live there?"

Eliot chuckled. "Well, it's not winter all the time, of course. They have farms. And they hunt bear, small game, and some deer."

"Bears?" Parker asked with a shiver. "That sounds dangerous."

Eliot shrugged. "They're not as dangerous as the wolves."

"But aren't bears bigger?" Parker asked with a frown. "And stronger?"

"Of course," he replied simply. "But they won't attack unless provoked and they are usually fairly solitary animals. Wolves travel and hunt in packs."

She shivered slightly. "They both sound scarier than horses," she muttered.

Eliot stopped walking and stared at the girl. "You're afraid of horses?" he asked.

She nodded. "I saw one kill a werewolf."

He blinked. "A werewolf?" he asked. "Parker, werewolves aren't real."

"No, he was definitely a werewolf," the girl insisted. "He had to be. He didn't look human. He was bent over like they are when they change and he had fur."

Eliot sighed. She must have been young, too young to know the tragedy that some people are born to. "Parker, _muirnin_, he wasn't a werewolf. He was a man. Just a man."

"Then why didn't he look like one?" she persisted. "People don't look like that."

Eliot sighed. "Sometimes people are born…" He trailed off, trying to find the right words to explain deformity to the naïve girl. "Sometimes a baby doesn't form right. He's still human but he looks different. They're not werewolves."

Parker looked at him and laughed. "You're funny."

He shook his head and started walking again. "There's something wrong with you," he muttered with a slight smile.

L* * *L

Parker sighed happily as she pulled her cloak tighter around her arms. "Where are we going?" she asked. "Not that it matters but it would be nice to know."

"Abhainn Àirde," Eliot replied. "I have a… trusted contact there. He'll help you find your way, whatever you want to do."

She pursed her lips. "You grew there, didn't you?"

Eliot pulled out his whetstone and began sharpening one of his knives. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, you said you liked the park there when you were young. You told me that days ago."

He laughed shortly. "I was very young then. Just a child. It was a long time ago."

"So did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you grow up in Abhainn Àirde?"

Eliot sheathed his knife and put another branch on the fire. "So're you ever going to tell me what you're running from?" he asked. "It's not like I'd tell anyone. Never find work again if I did that."

Parker frowned. "I said in the beginning that it was complicated," she said.

"I don't mind complicated," he said with a smile. "Makes for a good story."

"Thought you said you wouldn't tell anyone?"

Eliot could not hide his smirk. "I won't, but I like listenin' to a good story. Yours sounds like one in the making."

"My father thinks I'm a lure for his allies." Parker shrugged. "Father wanted me to meet someone new. I'm tired of it. I can't face another betrothal just for it to fall apart before the wedding."

Eliot's breath caught in his throat. He turned the rabbit on the spit before turning back to the girl. "Seen that happen before. No wonder you left."

"Did she ever marry?" she asked in a small voice.

Eliot nodded, letting his hair hang forward and hide his face. "Yeah, she did. Last I heard, happily, too. Him? Not so much."

"So the baiting finally stopped, then?"

"She only went through it once, _thoir taing dha __Dé_, so yes. And he's a good man, despite how he married her."

"Tell me more," Parker asked.

Eliot pulled the rabbit from the fire. "_Sin sin, níl aon scéal eile agam_," he muttered as he cut off a portion and put it on a plate. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself instead."

She shrugged slightly as she accepted the plate. "There's not much to say. I have a younger sister. I pretty much grew up in Àillidh Carragh. We moved there when I was five."

"Where did you live before that?" he asked.

"Near Abhainn Àirde," she said. "But I barely remember it."

Eliot raised an eyebrow. Suspicion made his spine tingle. "Who's your father?"

Parker sighed. "He's the king," she said quietly. "My real name is Alice."

Eliot sucked in a short breath. He wondered why he hadn't seen it before. The girl, the princess, looked so familiar, had since the beginning. Even more so since that odd brown dye had washed out of her hair. Now it made sense, of course.

"Eliot? Are you still in there?"

He jerked. How had he not heard her? He couldn't afford to be off his game like this. "What?"

"You weren't answering me," she said. "I thought maybe you died."

Eliot shook his head. "No, I was just thinking."

"What about?" she persisted. "Is something wrong?"

"No." He shook his head. "My foster-father named his daughter Parker. He told me she was never happier than when he and Maggie took her to the park near their estate."

"What is she like?" Parker asked.

Eliot shook his head again, wondering why he felt the need to tell her so much about his second family. "I don't know. I've never met her. She disappeared when she was two. Nate doesn't talk about her much anymore. Ever since Sam and Maggie died. But her mother's hair was almost the same color as yours."

L* * *L

Eliot sat by the fireplace, playing with the wine in the bottom of his goblet. "I like her, _Athair_," he said quietly. He looked up at his foster-father. "I mean, I really like her. I hope you don't mind."

Nate frowned at Eliot. "Why would I mind?"

"I think she's your Parker." Eliot sighed. "We'd just left Àillidh Carragh. She said she was renaming herself Parker because one of her father's friends called her that when she was little. Said she liked him taking her to the park so much, he thought she'd grow to live there. She wouldn't tell me who her father was until right before we got here. He used to be a friend of yours. Lived near here, even, _mac an donais_."

Nate's fingers tightened around his own goblet. "Who?"

"He was Lord Sterling back then," Eliot admitted quietly. "Now, well… He's the king."

Nate tossed back the rest of his wine. "I wondered at first if that wasn't why he started distancing himself around that time. Then the king and queen were ambushed in the park. Their son vanished off of the face of the earth. James took the throne. I also found out then that he'd also just had a daughter. She'd been born a month early. I changed my mind, thought he must've started planning the assassination back then." He laughed humorlessly. "Besides, if he was planning to take the throne, why would he take my daughter rather than someone's son. _A bhidse_, why would he risk abducting anyone's child?"

Eliot shook his head. "If he was going to kidnap a child to raise as his own, why not take the prince a few years earlier?" he mused out loud. "Hardly anyone knew what he looked like. He was still some years away from his introduction to the court. It would make more sense."

"No." Nate shook his head. "He would want his own son on the throne. Or grandson. The bigger question is why any child. Parker does look a bit like Maggie."

"She said the king's been using her as a political bargaining chip," Eliot mused. "Not her little sister, though. And they're close, Parker and Olivia. Like sisters. I've met her. She's blonde but she's as fiery as a red-head. Perhaps Parker was meant to replace Olivia in case she didn't live to grow up?"

Nate nodded as he stared into the fire. "Very likely."

"What are you boys brooding about tonight?" Sophie asked, walking over to them.

Nate looked up and reached for his wife's hand. She sat down beside him and looked over at Eliot. "Well?"

"Parker," Eliot admitted.

Sophie looked at Nate and sighed. "Oh, Nate… She reminds you of your _petite fille,_ doesn't she?"

"Eliot thinks she may be my little girl all grown up," Nate replied.

"What? How do you figure, Eliot?" she asked.

Eliot looked at the floor. "Just some things she's said, a story she told me about when she was very young. It was almost identical to something Nate told me about Parker." He shrugged. "A lot of little things just make more sense that way."

Sophie looked Nate in the eyes. "I really hope you're not going to tell her until you are absolutely certain. She's just learning to live away from the palace. She doesn't need any 'who's my father' craziness."

He nodded. "Of course not, _mo mhúirnín_. She barely even knows us yet. But we will do the spell soon. Just so we know."

Sophie nodded and lay her head on his shoulder. "So how long before you have to take another job, Eliot?"

Eliot sighed and sipped at his wine. "I'm actually on another one now. Home was on the way. But I can't stay. _Tha mi duilich_. Have to leave tomorrow. It's not safe for any of you. Damien… I have a month to get him the Sapphire _dàmhair_ Monkey or he hands me over to the crown. I can't be near here if I don't get it in time. I can't bring any of you into that."

"That _merde embulante_!" Sophie exploded. "Is he completely daft? Is that bloody Monkey even real?"

"Oh, it's real, all right, Sophie," Nate admitted. "I saw it once many years ago. Whether any of the legends about it are real is an entirely different question."

"What do you know about the warding and other protections on it, _Athair_?" Eliot asked. "What do I need beyond my usual gear?"

"Not much," Nate admitted. "It was a long time ago at a marketplace in Ruschik. Near Zanzibar."

Eliot nodded. "So you don't know who has it now?"

"I heard rumors that it was just north of our border," Nate replied.

Sophie nodded. "I heard that, too. Not that I paid too much attention. If I had a stone for every time someone told me they knew where the Sapphire Monkey is, I'd have enough to build a house."

Eliot grimaced. "Very true. But at least it's somewhere to start."

L* * *L

Nate frowned as he heard something scratching above the fireplace. He sighed. He would have thought that the squirrels would have learned to stay out of the chimney by now. He turned back to his desk. There was more scratching, this time accompanied by falling soot.

He stood and walked over to the fireplace. He knelt and looked up the chimney. Instead of the expected animal, he discovered the silhouette of the girl Eliot had brought home that night. "_Carson a chiall_ are you climbing around in my chimney?" he called, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

The blond-haired girl let out a surprised squawk and dropped to the floor. "_Tha mi duilich,_" she replied. "I didn't know anyone would be in here."

Nate had to stifle a laugh. "So I see," he said. "However that does not tell me what you're doing in my chimney."

She shrugged. "I was curious. I figured I'd be less of a bother this way. No one would feel they'd have to show me around."

This time, Nate could not hold back his laughter. "Parker, _caileag_, _is duilich leam_ believe that you would think we'd rather you climb around in the chimneys than show you around the castle."

She grinned. "Perhaps not," she conceded. "But it's more fun this way. Anyway, I was hoping this was Eliot's room. I wanted to talk to him."

Nate sighed. "He left already. He… has a job to do."

She frowned slightly. "When will he be back? What kind of job is it?"

"If all goes well, he'll come home in a few weeks. People hire him to find people and items that they can't get for themselves and bring them back," Nate explained. "Much like when you hired him to bring you here."

"So if he hadn't brought me here, Father might have hired him to bring me home?" she asked.

Nate nodded slowly. "Yes, perhaps."

"So who is he looking for now?"

"It's not a who, this time," Nate replied. "It's a what. The Sapphire Monkey, commonly believed to be a legend, rumored to be the most unique magical artifact in existence."

"If it's not real, how will he find it?"

Nate put a hand on Parker's shoulder and led her into the hallway. "It is real, so it can be found," he explained. "However finding will definitely be quite challenging. I saw it twenty years ago in a city in Ruschik. Where it is now is anyone's guess."

Parker sighed. "It seems stupid, though. To send someone to go buy something you're not sure exists."

Nate smiled sadly. "You're right, it is. Except that in this case, it's actually not. Because of what he does, there are people who want to see Eliot dead. I can't think of a better way to destroy him than to force him to do something that cannot be done."

Parker sighed and looked at the floor. "So he might not even come back," she said.

Nate did not have an answer to that. The simple truth was that Eliot had to come home somehow. Eire could not afford to lose him. If it came to it, he would speak to the Council of Lords before he found a _draoidh_ skilled enough and trustworthy enough to prepare the boy, but only if it came to that. For Eliot's sake. He led Parker down the stairs to the ground floor of the castle.

"It's strange, actually."

Nate looked up as Parker spoke. "What's strange."

"This castle," she replied. "It reminds me of a castle I used to dream about when I was little. _N__í__ tha seun ar an_ nursery ceiling, _an dta air?_ To make it look like the sky?"

Nate swallowed thickly. "Not anymore," he said quietly. "Nine years ago, there was."

Parker frowned. "There was one in my dream. And this baby that cried a lot."

Nate forced himself not to react. His mind flashed back to what Eliot had said the night before. It seemed as though his foster-son must be right. "Parker, do you still want to talk to Eliot?"

She her smile practically shone. "Of course."

"If you leave after breakfast, you should be able to catch up to him by tomorrow."

"Really?"

Nate nodded. "I'll have the cook pack some food for you. After your little adventure in the chimney, I think you could probably help him."

Parker grimaced. "I really am sorry about that."

Nate shook his head with a smile. "Don't worry about that. As long as it's warm and we're not using the fireplaces, I'd rather find you crawling down my chimney than the squirrels!"

Parker's laugh rang out down the stairwell. "They're actually where I got the idea," she admitted.

L* * *L

**Irish Gaelic**

_A bhidse_ sod it

_An dta air_ is it on it

_Athair_ father

_Buidseach_ wizard, magician

_Cac_ shit

_Caileag, is duilich leam_ girl, I find it hard to

_Carson a chiall_ why on earth

_Coin bhadhail is clann dhaoin eile_ stray dogs and other people's children

_Dàmhair_ rutting

_Draoidh_ druid, wizard

_Mac an donais_ damn it

_M'eudail_ my dear

_Mo mhúirnín_ my darling

_Múirnín_ darling

_Mún air meisce balgair_ piss-drunk fox

_Ní tha seun ar an_ there's not a spell/charm on the

_Rath Dé ort, múirnín_ God bless you, darling

_Seun_ charm/amulet

_Sin sin, níl aon scéal eile agam_ That's all, I don't have any other story

_Tha mi duilich_ I am sorry

_Thoir taing dha Dé_ thank God

_Ùmaidhean air dàir_ rutting fools/blockheads

**French**

_Merde embulante_ walking piece of shit

_Petite fille_ little girl


	3. Chapter 3

Eliot stiffened as he heard a twig snap. He glanced around him surreptitiously. This was what loathed about forests. Between the trees and the underbrush, there were too many hiding places. His hand inched toward his sword. A rustling sound came from his right. He spun around and pulled out a knife. He reached into the bush and grabbed the intruder's arm. He ground his teeth as he recognized her. "Parker! You _caileag_ _bi fanáid ort fhéin!_ Are you _á do thonaisg?_ I could've killed you!"

Parker yelped as he pulled her out of the bush. "Nate sent me after you. He said you might need me."

He sighed. "It's not safe, Parker. I can't take you with me. The wards around the Sapphire Monkey are going to be the best, most complicated wards I've ever dealt with. Do you realize what can happen if something goes wrong? I've seen wards that can turn a man inside out."

She shrugged, fidgeting with the wooden disk she'd kept fingering since he met her. "Nate said you might need me so I'm either going with you or following you. Someone needs to be there to pull you out before the wards gut you."

"Please, Parker, _mo ghaolach __caileag_," he murmured, his heart clenching. "I can't let anything happen to you. You mean too much to too many people."

She smiled. "So do you, Eliot. Do you ever think about that? You're Nate's son. What would happen if he lost a third child, _mo ghaol_? And Sophie? Somebody's got to watch your back."

Eliot shook his head. "I can take care of myself, Parker. I've been doing this for years now. But I can't do what I have to do if I'm worried about keeping you safe. Please, go back to Abhainn Àirde. I'll come by as soon as I get back from Ruschik. I promise."

"Eliot!" Parker held his gaze. "From what Nate said, some of these wards might need more than one person to break through. If you try to do this alone, there may not be a 'when you get back.' I'm going with you. I'm not asking you. I am telling you. I can't face losing you when I can do something about it."

He hung his head and sighed. "I really can't convince you to stay?"

She just looked at him.

He nodded . "Very well," he acquiesced. "But you're not coming with me to deliver it. You left Àillidh Carragh for a reason. I'm not taking you back there with me."

Her smile nearly blinded him. "I knew you'd have to listen to me!"

Eliot shook his head fondly as he gave a shrill whistle and his horse trotted over. He vaulted into the saddle and reached down for Parker. She gasped as he swung her up and seated her in front of him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and slowly spurred the horse to a walk. "You all right, _mo mhuirnin_?" he asked. "I know you're not exactly fond of horses but walking will take to long."

Parker's blond hair flicked against his cheeks as she nodded.

He smiled. "I won't let you fall." He waited a few moments until Parker relaxed against him and urged the horse to a canter. He looked down at her.

Her head was thrown back against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted in a wide smile. Her hair blew against his face and neck as the horse carried them. She threw her arms out to the side with a loud cheer.

Eliot winced at the loud sound so close to his ear. He grinned at her obvious pleasure. After her delivered the Sapphire Monkey to Damien, he would have to teach her to ride alone. "Not so scary, huh?" he whispered in her ear.

"It's great!" She laughed happily. "It's just like I always thought flying would be like."

"Oh, _m'eudail_, you ain't seen nothing yet," he teased.

"It gets better?" she asked.

Eliot laughed. "Hold on tight, Parker," he instructed, spurring the horse to a gallop.

Parker grabbed at the saddle and opened her eyes. As the wind whipped her hair around, she let out a delighted squeal.

L* * *L

Eliot looked over at the girl that walked beside him. "So it would make things a lot less awkward if I knew your name," he commented. "Since we'll be traveling together until I can get you someplace safe."

She looked over at him. "I'm…" She paused. "Call me Parker."

He raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. "You're renaming yourself?" he asked. "You know, that's a little risky. If someone calls your new name and you forget, it's bound to raise questions."

She shook her head. "It's not a new name, exactly. When I was little, one of my father's friends used to take me to the park a lot. I liked it so much, he said I should live there when I grew up, become a park-keeper. Called me Parker, said it fit me."

Eliot stared at her for a moment before smiling. "I used to love the park by Abhainn Àirde as a child," he said quietly.

"The one by Dùn an Tuile has the prettiest trees," Parker replied. "The bark's almost pure white."

"White birch trees," Eliot explained. "They're rare here but they have whole forests of them in Ruschik."

Parker looked up at him. "You've been to Ruschik?"

Eliot smiled. "_M'eudail_, it's more a question of where I haven't been."

"Tell me about it," she asked, reminding him of Sam.

"It's cold, dark. You can travel for over a week without seeing a village. But I've never seen the stars shine brighter than they do there in mid-winter. The land is covered in forest with each village carved out of it. The snow piles up over the door frames in some places."

She frowned. "How does anyone live there?"

Eliot chuckled. "Well, it's not winter all the time, of course. They have farms. And they hunt bear, small game, and some deer."

"Bears?" Parker asked with a shiver. "That sounds dangerous."

Eliot shrugged. "They're not as dangerous as the wolves."

"But aren't bears bigger?" Parker asked with a frown. "And stronger?"

"Of course," he replied simply. "But they won't attack unless provoked and they are usually fairly solitary animals. Wolves travel and hunt in packs."

She shivered slightly. "They both sound scarier than horses," she muttered.

Eliot stopped walking and stared at the girl. "You're afraid of horses?" he asked.

She nodded. "I saw one kill a werewolf."

He blinked. "A werewolf?" he asked. "Parker, werewolves aren't real."

"No, he was definitely a werewolf," the girl insisted. "He had to be. He didn't look human. He was bent over like they are when they change and he had fur."

Eliot sighed. She must have been young, too young to know the tragedy that some people are born to. "Parker, _muirnin_, he wasn't a werewolf. He was a man. Just a man."

"Then why didn't he look like one?" she persisted. "People don't look like that."

Eliot sighed. "Sometimes people are born…" He trailed off, trying to find the right words to explain deformity to the naïve girl. "Sometimes a baby doesn't form right. He's still human but he looks different. They're not werewolves."

Parker looked at him and laughed. "You're funny."

He shook his head and started walking again. "There's something wrong with you," he muttered with a slight smile.

L* * *L

Eliot looked up at the castle and swallowed. He slowed the horse and leaned over Parker's shoulder. "You should get down now," he said. "Follow along but stay behind me. The first wards are somewhere around here. I can't see them and I don't want you getting hurt because I did something' dumb."

Parker slid off the horse slowly. She looked up at him and held his gaze. "You be careful," she ordered. "I don't want to watch you die. Don't make me see that."

He smirked down at her, sliding his shield from his back. "Don't worry, _mo rún,_ I'm not gonna leave you alone out here."

She glared at him. "_Dún do bheal_, Eliot Spencer. Be careful and let me help you. _Tá grá agam duit_."

He smiled, actually smiled. "I will, Parker. As soon as I know where and what these wards are."

"You promise?" she persisted.

He leaned down and kissed her lips. "I promise," he whispered, urging his horse slowly forward.

Eliot slid his shield onto his arm as he inched forward. He was about two yards away from the castle wall when he found the wards. A ring of fire flared to life just in front of the horse's head. The gelding reared back, trying to break its head loose from Eliot's grip on the reigns. He threw his shield beside its face as he firmly turning it to the side. He slid out of the saddle and lifted his shield up to his head. Cautiously, he approached the wards again. The flames tilted slightly down as he walked closer. He could feel the force of them driving against his shield as he walked into them but they simply reflected off the shield without wrapping around behind him. He backed away carefully.

"Parker," he called. "I'm ready for you. I have two metal hex-boxes in my right saddlebag. Can you get them and we'll go through."

"These?" she asked, pressing against his side.

Eliot looked down at her hands. "Yeah, them. How did you get them without going through my saddlebag?"

Parker had the decency to blush. "I saw them a couple days ago and took them out to look at them.?

He pressed his lips together. "And why do you still have them?"

"I-I…" She sighed.

"Next time, ask me, Parker." He pulled her tightly against him, making certain that his shield protected her. "Careful now."

They inched slowly, cautiously into the hovering ring of fire. Once again, the flames battered at his shield, nearly beating his head with it. The farther in he walked, the more force he felt behind the flames. The heat of the fire radiated around him. He felt as if he was walking through a smelting furnace. Sweat beaded on his arms and dripped onto Parker.

Finally, they reached the inside of the wards. He lowered his shield and released Parker with a smile. He looked back at his prancing horse.

"That wasn't too bad," Parker commented.

He nodded. "I've seen worse," he agreed. "But we still have to break a doorway into these wards. I'm not leaving that horse out there to just run wild."

She nodded slowly. "So what do we do?"

"Hand me those hex-boxes."

When she did, Eliot opened them and carefully examined the contents. "If I don't put the right herbs and other components in the boxes, they would make an extra set of wards instead of a passage through this set," he explained. "For these wards, I need a caduceus, basil, and salt in each."

He snapped them closed and handed one back to Parker. "They need to go in place at the same time. If they don't, the magic of the wards could destroy the hex-boxes. We would be unable to go further and that's the best case scenario. I need a big enough gap in the fire that the horse won't spook. I can't reach that distance. You keep that box and stay here. I'll go a few feet down. Put it in the wards on my mark."

Parker nodded slowly.

Eliot walked a few feet away. He turned and looked back at her. "Ready?" he asked. At her nod, he turned to the wards and knelt. "Now," he called, sliding the box in place.

Immediately, a gap formed in the ring of flames. He whistled and the gelding galloped through. "Pull it, Parker," he called, pulling his hex-box out of the magical barrier. The flames vanished as if they had never been. He pulled a rope and some other supplies out of his saddle bags before taking the horse's reins. Eliot took Parker's hand and led her to the castle gate. He frowned as he examined it. It was a portcullis. He could see nothing on this side of the wall that he could use to raise it. He sighed and looked up at the top of the wall. If he climbed the portcullis, the stone was probably rough enough that he could scale the last few yards. He should be strong enough to open the gate from the inside for Parker. "Take the horse's bridle, _m'eudail_," he instructed. "We'll leave him in the courtyard. Don't want him wandering off without us."

He released her hand and gripped a crossbar, getting ready to start pulling himself up. He let go immediately as he felt the metal shift.

Parker yelped and backed away from the gate. "Why's it doing that, Eliot?" she demanded. "Why'd start moving when you touched it? It didn't open for me."

Eliot shook his head as he watched the portcullis slide up, letting them in. "You touched the gate?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yeah, but it didn't do anything until you touched it, too. _Carson dearna s__é__ d__é__anamh seo?_"

Eliot frowned and shook his head. He ran into the courtyard, pulling Parker with him. A poorly kept, dirt path lead around to the side of the keep. "This way," he said, guiding her along the path.

"You're just going to go in the front door?" she asked. "Isn't that what they'll expect?"

"There's no one here, _mo rún_," he said. "This path is too overgrown to be used frequently. This is just an oversized vault."

Parker frowned. "Why would you use a whole castle just to hide something?"

Eliot shook his head as he pushed the door open. "Because some things are either very dangerous, perhaps."

"This Sapphire Monkey is dangerous?" she asked.

Eliot nodded, walking down the dark hallway. "If it does any of what the legend says it can, it definitely is. Supposedly, it can take any message you send it with or steal any object you can desire. Imagine how someone like your father could use it. Or Damien Moreau."

"Then why are you stealing it for them?" she asked before yelping suddenly. She backed toward him, rubbing her nose.

"What happened, Parker?" Eliot asked.

"I'm not sure." She frowned. "I walked into something but there's nothing there. Unless they painted a wall to look like a hallway. Can they do that and make it look this real?"

Eliot stepped past her and felt at the air in front of them. He grimaced as his fingers brushed against what felt like a wall. He pulled a knife from its sheath. He stabbed at the air by his hand. It passed through until his hand hit the invisible barrier. He grinned.

L* * *L

Nathan sighed as he tilted his goblet, staring at the ruby liquid inside it. "So what do you think, Soph?" he asked quietly. "You think there's much chance Eliot's right about the _caileag coamh?_"

"She does look an awful lot like Maggie," the brunette woman acknowledged. "She's at least close to the right age. I think there's a good chance she's yours. Eliot seemed quite fond of her, _le cher gars_."

Nate nodded. "He told me as much. She's good for him. He needs to smile more often."

"She's certainly _plein d'impr__é__vu_ enough." Sophie laughed quietly. "I have no idea what to expect from her when she's around. At first I thought she was skittish. She's not, though."

"No, she's not." Nate chuckled as he looked back at the leather-bound manuscript in his lap. "She was anything but skittish when she kept asking about Eliot."

"No, more like bold and persistent," she agreed. "I like her. She reminds me of Sam when he was _tr__è__s jeune_, a bundle of curiosity and wonder." She gave Nate a piercing glance. "You're trying to set them up, aren't you? That's why you sent her after him."

"What?" He blinked. "No, of course not, Soph. They don't need a matchmaker. I just know enough to know that Eliot's going to need help to get that Sapphire Monkey."

"You know, Nate, I always wondered where Eliot learned those overly innocent tricks," his wife retorted. "Now I finally know. He learned them from you."

Nate looked up at his wife, eyes wide and innocent. "I have no idea what you're talking about, _mo bhean gaolach._"

She smacked him in the shoulder with her book. "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! You plant ideas in people's thoughts and then pretend you don't know what you're doing. You're unbelievable."

"What makes you think I would teach Eliot to do anything like that?" Nate stood and walked behind Sophie's chair, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "That boy uses everything I teach him on me and won't stop trying until he pulls one over on me."

"Oh, so that's why he decided to set us up?" she asked with a laugh. "That wasn't what he told me."

"He told me he set us up because he wanted you to stop grifting," Nate retorted.

"If that's what he was trying for, he didn't succeed. And now you actually help me."

Nate chuckled softly in her ear. "Best not to let the boy know what we do in Franterre."

"Well, you know what they say. What happens in Franterre stays in Franterre. It's worked so far."

Nate swung her up. "Yes, but when was the last time Eliot went to Franterre?"

Sophie frowned slightly. "Almost a year ago, I think."

"Yes." Nate nodded. "He's about due for another trip there. Or have you forgotten that he usually takes a few jobs there once a year?"

"How could I forget, chèri? That was how we met. Or did you forget already?"

"Forget? Me, Sophie? You know I never forget anything." Nate leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. "Come on. It's getting late."

L* * *L

Eliot frowned as he reached the end of the hall. Two more hallways forked away at the end, both dimly lit by some sort of _draoidheil solas_. He looked closely at each, hoping one would have some sort of subtle clue that would tell him which way to go. He sighed. Of course neither did. This whole castle appeared to be designed for one purpose only to guard the most dangerous magical artifact in existence. He turned to Parker. "Which way do you want to go?" he asked.

Parker smiled at him and pulled a small object from the small purse at her waist. She tied a leather thong around his neck. He looked down and saw the wooden disk she kept playing with hanging from the cord. This time, he saw it was an amulet. "Why don't you decide this time?" she suggested.

He looked back down at the amulet. "A maze of life?" he asked. "You have a maze of life amulet?"

Parker shrugged. "I stole it from my father," she replied. "He kept it in a small box in the back of his chiffonier. He wasn't using it so I figured I needed it more than him. Besides, it's pretty."

Eliot laughed. "You stole from the king? Here I was, feeling guilty about dragging you into this part of my life and you started stealing before we ever met. _Tu c__aileag b__òidheach, b__i fanáid ort fhéin!_"

"Well, I'd never see my dowry any other way," she retorted. "Besides, how else was I supposed to pay my bodyguard and guide? Now, which way should we go?"

He frowned slightly. He'd never worn a maze of life before. It wasn't as if they were available at every village marketplace. He knew what they did, what they looked like from one of Nate's books. "I don't know how it works, Parker," he admitted quietly. "I've never actually seen an amulet like this before."

"You never bought one?" she asked. "Or stole one? Why not? Wouldn't it make your work easier and safer?"

He sighed. "You don't know how rare these are, do you?" he asked. "This amulet is _gan praghas_. They're barely legal, even for a wizard working for the king. The things you can do with them, if you know how… You could ruin someone's life with this, Parker, steal their identity from them, their memory, leave them with no idea who they are or where they came from."

Parker frowned. "I thought they were to help you find your way," she said. "To help you figure out who you're meant to be. That's not dangerous."

Eliot ran a hand through his hair. "That's what they were meant for," he conceded. "But there are rituals and spells that can do the other. All of them require a maze of life."

Parker's mouth opened to an "O." "That… That's horrible," she sputtered. "Why would someone do that?"

Eliot shook his head. "Why do people kill each other? Why do they frame someone for crimes they didn't commit?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes people just hate each other. I think I read somewhere that the original spell was designed for spies going into deep cover. No one uses it for that any more, though."

"Huh," Parker mused. "You still haven't told me which way we're going. Right or left?"

He hesitated. "I… I think…" He frowned. He found himself walking toward the hallway on his left. He couldn't have told anyone why he chose that direction. That bothered him more he had words to express. For all that he could manipulate warding magic as he needed, he loathed magic on principle. It was too nebulous, too unpredictable.

"Are you all right?" Parker asked quietly. "You got quiet all of a sudden."

"Yeah," he replied, his voice equally quiet. "I just don't like _draoidheachd_."

"_Carson?_" she persisted.

Eliot sighed. "Most of the time, you don't know exactly what's going to happen. Even if you know what the spell's for, you don't know how it's going to do what it's supposed to do. A spell to heal one person might kill another person in the process. No one knows what makes magic work. Not even the expert magicians themselves."

Parker frowned. "Then why do people use it?"

"Because it works. _Mo rún_, think about if your sister were really sick. If the only thing that would help her was a spell, wouldn't you do it?" He pushed a iron-braced wooden door open and walked through. "Most people don't really care about the how or if the spell hurts as it works as long as it does what they want it to do."

Parker squealed excitedly instead of answering. "A climbing rope!" She ran forward to begin climbing up the rope.

Eliot grabbed her arm and spun her around. "_Dè fon ghrèin'_ are you thinking?" he hissed. "Exactly how _à __do thonaisg_ are you? Please tell me you haven't forgotten that wall of flames around the castle. Did we have any warning? No. Or how about that invisible wall you walked into, huh? At least that one wasn't lethal. Not to mention that you know nothing about that rope. It could be rotting or half-cut through somewhere out of sight. Someone could have woven a death spell into it. It could be coated in poison, for all we know! _Chan eil saoi air nach laigh leòn, _Parker. _Damnú air, mo mhúirnín, m__á__s __é__ do thoil __é__,_ don't make me watch you die like that!"

She sighed quietly and seemed to find her the floor quite fascinating. "I'm sorry, El, I didn't mean to scare you. But how else are we going on from here? There are no other doorways. This has to be the right direction. The amulet would make sure you knew if we were going wrong. I know that much about maze of life. The only way to go on from here is up."

Eliot frowned at her words and looked around the room. _Mac an donais_, she was right. No doors of any kind, no windows. The only exits were the door they had come in through and the hole in the ceiling with the climbing rope dangling from it. As much as he wanted to turn around and find another way, something inside him nagged at him that this was, indeed, the right direction. The same something that screamed that the rope spelled danger. He looked determinedly around the room again. "The fireplace," he announced. "The chimney has to come out somewhere. Even if it takes us directly to the roof, we can find a way in through a window somewhere."

He led the way across the room to the fireplace. It was bigger inside than he had expected. Parker stood at his shoulder. He looked up the chimney. It went straight up for about another eight feet above his head and then turned sharply, apparently taking a sharp right from the direction they had come in. The stonework of the chimney was rough and rugged. Eliot breathed a sigh of relief. The width of the chimney made it impossible to shimmy up it like he normally would. He felt around for a secure ledge and hoisted himself up. He froze. Parker. This was all _deismir agus maith_ for him but how was Parker supposed to follow him? He looked down at her. "Wait here. I'll drop a rope for you when I get to the top."

Slowly, carefully, Eliot climbed up the side of the chimney. Several times, he chose a handhold or foothold only to nearly fall as it crumbled under him. Finally, he crawled over the ledge where the chimney turned to a flat, tunnel-like passage. He turned back and looked down at the fireplace below him. He froze. It was empty. "Parker?" he called. "_C__á__ dta t__ú__?_"

A giggle from behind him made him jerk. "_Damnú air_, Parker," he hissed, hitting his head on the top of the passage. "I told you to wait! I told you to stay behind me. What if you'd fallen and I hadn't been their to catch you?"

He saw her roll her eyes in the _draoidheil solas_. "You _fear baoghalta_," she said with a laugh. "How did you think I got into my father's room before I left Àillidh Carragh? I know what I'm doing. Now _tog ort, tiugainn!_"

Eliot nodded and crawled past her with a sigh. Despite the height, the passage was still more than wide enough for them both. The _draoidheil solas_ kept away the normal pitch black of the chimney. The seemingly endless passage curved around with no clear destination.

Glancing down, he noticed a powder at his fingertips. He froze. Black henna had many mundane uses but it could only be here for one purpose. As he reached to pull out the hex boxes, Parker bumped into him from behind, knocking him off balance. He bit back a scream as he fell through the wards. Instantly, the passage around him went pitch black. "Parker?" he called. "_An dta t__ú__ maith?_"

"Yeah," her voice echoed back. "Of course. What's wrong?"

"The _draoidheil solas_ went out," he said. "And I might've kicked you when I fell."

"The _draoidheil solas?_" Parker's voice sounded confused. "You mean that odd blue glow on the walls? That's still here. Did you hit your head?"

Suddenly the black henna made chilling sense. Any _buidseach_ could use henna for concealment. Black henna specifically added darkness as a component. Eliot forced himself to breathe normally. "No," he said. "I fell through a set of wards. Don't come any closer."

A hand brushed against his forehead. "_An dta t__ú__ maith_, Eliot?"

"No," he admitted. "_Ní tha m__é_. I can't see, Parker. And did you just cross the wards after I told you not to?"

"No. I crossed them when you fell. _Tha s__é__ mhaith._ You must have broken them when you fell. I can see fine. _Tog ort_, Eliot. I'll lead you."

She pulled and prodded at him until he got back on his knees and followed her.

L* * *L

Olivia bit her lip as she slipped into the library. She wanted so badly to believe that her father was under some sort of spell. For all of his treatment of Alice over the past several years, she had never believed he would so callously plot a man's… Well, as much as she resisted the word, murder was the only word that actually fit. She walked slowly toward the back of the room, looking down the aisles as she went. "Alec?" she called softly.

A dark head popped out from behind a set of shelves. "Princess?"

Olivia frowned. "How many times have I asked you to use my name, not my title?" she asked.

The dark-skinned looked up at the ceiling for moment. "Only about a hundred," he replied with a grin. "In other words, not enough."

She scowled at his. "_Tha t__ú__ tàirbhich_," she grumbled.

"No, _tha m__í__se meallach_," he retorted. "That's why you keep coming back."

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" she said with a half-hearted glare. "Just because you're a _draoidh_."

He raised an eyebrow. "Smart?" he objected. "_Mo __chaileag,_ I'll have you know that I'm a genius."

Olivia sighed. "I actually did have a serious reason for coming after you this time," she said quietly. "_Athair_'s up to something."

Alec snorted. "_Bean_, how is that different from normal? That's why Alice left."

Olivia nodded. "Yes, it is," she admitted. "But they said something about killing someone when he came back to Eire. And they talked as if that will be soon." She found herself examining the floor. "He's my father. I know he's not always the nicest person in the world, but he's my father. I never thought he'd do something like this."

The young _buidseach_ gave a long sigh. "You said they?" he asked slowly. "Which they? The king and who else?"

"_Athair_ and Lord Moreau," she replied. "Do you think there's any chance my father's under a spell?"

Alec shook his head slowly. "I wish I could tell you he was," he said quietly, taking Olivia's hand. "My Nana didn't really want me to train here. Most of that was because she believes the king did something like this before..

Olivia's eyes snapped up to meet his. "What do you mean?" she asked fiercely. "She believes my father killed before?"

"You were practically a baby," he explained. "It was a family. They were traveling near Abhainn Àirde. No one knows exactly what happened, but they and everyone with them died. They had stayed with your father just that morning. There was a child with them. No one could find even his body."

The princess bit her lip. "You said no one really knows what happened, though, right?" she asked. "So it might not have been _Athair_. It could've been anyone."

Alec nodded. "It could have been, but no one else stood to gain anything. Olivia, it's how your father became king."

Olivia's throat constricted. "No," she whispered, clenching her fists. "It had to be someone else. Take it back."

Her companion wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Olivia," he said. "I hope my Nana's wrong. For your sake. But after what you heard? Do you really think so?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're right," she admitted reluctantly. "_Athair_ wasn't wearing an _seun_. The air didn't smell like someone had just cast a spell. He's not being forced into this. I didn't really think he was. I just wanted to believe he's the man I always thought he was. Which means he really might've done it before. So how do we stop him this time?"

Alec frowned. "Please tell me you heard the man's name."

Olivia shook her head. "I wish. I only heard the end of the conversation."

"Well, that will make things rather harder. Can you find a reason to give your father some kind of present he'll keep with him?"

She nodded her head. "I think so. _Tapadh leat_, Alec."

L* * *L

Eliot stumbled into Parker. He frowned. "Why did you stop?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

She didn't say anything right away. "Oh, _tha mi duilich!_" she exclaimed. "I forgot. I don't know. Maybe. There are some odd markings on the walls."

"What do they look like?" Eliot asked. If only he could see them for himself. Wall markings could mean anything, from warnings to directions to nothing at all. "Tell me exactly what kind of markings they are."

"There are three ridges on each side of the hallway," she began. "Not carved in the stone, though, raised. The middle ridge on each side is larger. It looks like it might be a handle of some kind. They're painted. The top ridge on the right is blue. The middle is red and the bottom is green. On the left, it's just the opposite. There's a caduceus in front of the ridges and an Asclepius' staff afterward. There's some sort of leaf carved above the ridges. The leafs aren't painted but the other symbols are."

"A leaf?" he asked. "What kind of leaf?"

"Does it matter?" Eliot could hear the confusion in Parker's voice.

"Yes, it matters. One kind of leaf could simply point the direction. Another could mean there's a death trap down this corridor. What kind of leaf, Parker?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. He sighed. Parker was just a girl, only around the age Aimee was when he lost her.

"I think it might be some kind of mint leaf." He could hear the frown in her voice.

Eliot smiled. "Good. And what colors are the other symbols painted?"

"A bright, rather rusty red," she replied. "But it's odd. The paint looks rough, like there's some sort of course grit mixed in… No, more like small crystals."

Eliot let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good." He reach into the pouch at his waist and pulled out the hex boxes again. He handed them to Parker. "Here. Take these and place them on the floor between the markings. Make sure you do it at the same time, just like outside the castle and in that first corridor. Then push them to the side until there is enough room for us both to walk through."

She took the boxes from him and stepped away. He heard the light clunk of metal touching the ground followed by a scraping sound. Then she grabbed his hand again and led him forward. After a few feet, she stopped again. "Do you want me to leave them there?"

He shook his head. "No, bring them. We might need them again."

"Surely we're close to the Monkey now," she countered.

Eliot nodded. "You're right. The Sapphire Monkey's probably at the center of the castle. And we should be near the center. But even once we're in the right room, there may be more wards. Bring the hex boxes, _mo rún_."

Parker left his side again, this time returning less than a moment later. "I'll carry them," she said, slipping her hand into his. "It'll be easier if we need them again."

He nodded. "That sounds good."

They walked in silence, their steps echoing quietly off of the stone walls. From the sound, Eliot guessed the corridor was wide and fairly short rather than long and narrow. He found himself smiling. "This reminds me of when I was a squire," he mused.

"Tell me about it," Parker asked.

"I was squire to Lord Martin," he said. "Have you ever been to his summer palace?"

"No," she replied. "I've been to his winter palace a couple times, but not his summer palace."

"It has a lot of wide, open halls, much like this one. Lord Martin used to say that I should know everywhere I lived well enough to find my way through blindfolded. Of course, he only meant that I should know my home like I know my own hands but Aimee used to actually blindfold me and lead me around the palace until I could tell her right where we were by how many steps we'd taken and the sound of our footsteps." He laughed at the memory.

Parker squeezed his hand. "You were Aimee's fiancé? The one my father wouldn't let her marry?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he admitted. "_Bhí m__é_. You know about that?"

"I was at her wedding," she admitted. "Olivia, Father, and I. She cried before the wedding because she still loved you and she didn't even know Liam yet."

"Well, she's happy now," he replied. "That's all that matters anymore."

"But what about you?"

Eliot turned toward her and smiled. "It doesn't hurt as bad as it used to anymore. After all, if I had married her, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"No," she admitted with a small laugh. "For one thing, you'd actually be a knight, not just an outlaw with more skills than most knights could ever dream of."

"I'll have you know I am a knight. _Athair_ knighted me a few years after the king outlawed me. The king might not want to recognize it, but Nate figured I'd earned it."

The scraping of metal on stone and the high groan of hinges turned interrupted the conversation. "I see it, Eliot!" came Parker's excited voice. "The Sapphire Monkey, I see it! _Tha sé bòidheach._"

They stepped into the new room. After a couple steps, Parker yelped and stopped. Eliot clutched at her shoulders to keep from falling. "What's wrong, _múirnín?_" he asked. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," she replied, panic creeping into her voice.. "But there's a around the edge of the tile and it snapped shut around my ankle."

He rubbed her shoulders gently. "_Eist,_" he said quietly, his voice soothing like when he calmed a frightened horse. "It's all right. _Eist,_ Parker, _air do shocair._ I'm going to kneel and open the trap. Just be ready to move your foot."

She giggled quietly as he knelt. He felt carefully around her ankle. The trap felt like a bear trap except the jaws had no teeth. He wrapped his fingers around the jaws and pulled them apart. Once he felt her foot move away, he stood. "Better now?" he asked.

She took his hand again. "I guess we'd better walk on the cracks between the tiles," she said instead of answering.

It took several minutes to cross the room. While boots were good for protecting his feet and ankles, eliot realized they were anything but helpful when trying to feel the tiles on the floor. Finally he felt a low pedestal at his fingertips. "_An dta seo sé?_" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely more than a breath.

Eliot reach slowly forward. His hand brushed against a small, solid object. He blinked and squinted in the sudden light. He reached again and grabbed the object. That was when he realized he could see again. He blinked down at the object in his hand. It was larger than he had expected from what he had felt. The monkey was carved out of blue sapphire with hints of purple and green in its paws and eyes. It crouched as if looking up at him, its tail curling up behind it. Eliot gasped and turned to Parker. "_Dearna muid s__é_, _a ghràidh_," he breathed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to cover her lips with his own. "_Dearna muid s__é__ air m'onair!_"

L* * *L

**Irish Gaelic**

_Á__ do thonaisg_ out of your mind/senses

_Air do shocair_ steady on, go easy

_An dta tú maith_ are you good/well

_Athair_ father

_Bhí mé_ I was

_Buidseach_ wizard, magician

_Cá dta tú_ where are you

_Caileag bi fanáid ort fhéin_ silly girl

_Caileag coamh_ dear dear

_Carson_ why

_Carson dearna sé déanamh seo_ why did it do that

_Chan eil saoi air nach laigh leòn_ no hero is proof against injury

_Damnú air, mo mhúirnín, más é do thoil é_ damn it, my darling, please

_Dè fon ghrèin'_ what on earth

_Dearna muid sé, a ghràidh_ we did it, love

_Dearna muid sé air m'onair_ we honestly did it

_Deismir agus maith_ fine and good

_Draoidh_ druid, wizard

_Draoidheachd_ magic, wizardry

_Draoidheil solas_ magical light

_Dún do bheal_ shut your mouth

_Eist_ hush

_Fear baoghalta_ stupid man

_Gan praghas_ without price

_Mac an donais_ damn it

_M'eudail_ my dear

_Mo bhean gaolach_ my dear/beloved woman, my dear/beloved wife

_Mo chaileag_ my girl

_Mo ghaolach caileag_ my dear/beloved girl

_Mo mhúirnín_ my darling

_Mo rún_ my secret

_Múirnín_ darling

_Ní tha mé_ I am not

_Seun_ charm/amulet

_Tapadh leat_ thank you

_Tha mi duilich_ I am sorry

_Tha míse meallach_ I am beguiling/bewitching

_Tha sé bòidheach_ it is pretty/beautiful

_Tha sé maith_ it is good

_Tha tú tàirbhich_ you are contemptable

_Tog ort_ stir your stumps, let's get a move on

_Tog ort, tiugainn_ let's get a move on, let's go

_Tu caileag bòidheach, bi fanáid ort fhéin_ you beautiful, silly girl

**French**

_Chèri_ love

_Le cher gars_ the dear boy

_Plein d'imprévu_ unpredictable, quirky

_Très jeune_ very young


End file.
